


A Final Lie

by realmzenith



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (by everyone i mean al and lud), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Drama, Heavy Angst, M/M, Revolution, brace yourselves for Too Much Conflict, everyone is thirsty, god bless yao's soul, ludwig you sit upon a throne of liES
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 01:40:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realmzenith/pseuds/realmzenith
Summary: Ludwig Beilschmidt, an ambitious young lord, is irrevocably in love with Alfred Jones, the dashing duke nephew of the King and Queen. Only a few small issues remain. Firstly, Ludwig is a spy for the Revolution, and secondly, his entire identity is a sham.





	1. First

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back for day four of [GerAme week](gerame-week.tumblr.com)! The prompt for this chapter was "After All This Time," and I want to apologize in advance for the sheer amount of thirst in this fic. Either way, get ready for some high drama because things are about to become a Royal Mess. Kudos, comments, reblogs, bookmarks, anything honestly are more than appreciated! Love you all, and happy reading! <3
> 
> The aesthetic for this chapter can be found [here](https://realmwrites.tumblr.com/post/177534768752/expanse-youll-be-the-one-with-the-stunning).

“Hey, Ambassador. What’s new?”

Ludwig pushes back the stray strands of hair from his face and tries for a smile. “Alfred.”

“Awh, Lud. You know it makes me so damn happy that I finally got you to call me by my name. “ He grins, sliding onto the bench beside him and bumping his shoulder.

Ludwig breathes out a soft snort. 

Alfred slings his arm around his shoulders and tugs at his collar. “What’s up, Lud? You look like you’re about to cry.”

He looks over and furrows his brows.

The sun is dropping low behind the castle grounds, coating the extensive paths in a golden glow and quieting the last cooing doves. Alfred’s features remain backlit by the sun, light and shadows painting the strong lines of his jaw and the light brown of his skin. He’s beautiful and smiling and everything Ludwig knows he can never be, and it hollows the gaping hole in his chest. 

“Do I? Well, I wasn’t.” Ludwig shrugs, staring pointedly into the distance. “I’m not sure. I’m thinking.”

“Yeah? What about?” He squeezes his shoulder. “Talk to me, Lud.”

Ludwig wants nothing more than to drop his head against Alfred's shoulder and breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne. But he doesn't. There are too many reasons why he cannot, why he can never. 

“Alfred.” He clenches and unclenches his hands in his lap. “Alfred, I’m a terrible conversationalist. I’m terrible at forging lasting connections with people.”

“No, you’re not, and I’m your friend, aren’t I?” Alfred slaps his back, his arm falling back to his side. He throws his black-booted foot up on his knee and spins to the side. “I’m awkward as fuck sometimes, too. You’re a great guy, man. I don’t know what kind of shit you’re trying to tell me.” 

“You’re good at social interaction.” He exhales through his nose, smiling with a shake of his head. “You’re funny, Alfred.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He snorts.

“I don’t know. You just are. I don’t understand how you can do the things you do. It’s impressive.” Ludwig shakes his head again, looking over to the silhouettes of the rose bushes tinted gold and the lengthening shadows of the turrets. 

“What? Being a rebel? Fashion?”

“Yes. Both but also more. Your magnetism and ease of interaction in large social gatherings- how you enjoy it, but also how you can forgo the consequences to simply live. You can just  _ do _ , and I can’t. That… goes against my nature.”

“That’s because you’re a good person. It’s fucking bad, bro. I’m always going against what’s set out for me, but you’re just a good person. I wish I was more like you.”

“No, you don’t.”

He wouldn’t if he knew how much blood stains his hands, how much less lies behind the court-worthy manners and cordial smile, how dishonest he’s being even at his most vulnerable. He’s far from  _ good _ .

“What do you mean? I think highly of you, you know? You’re out of the ordinary. Extra-ordinary.”

“Thank you. I do think highly of you as well.” 

A rebellious part of him revels in the praise, but another recoils. Empty is flattery when Ludwig knows he’s exceptionally mundane and markedly immoral. There is no glory, no honor in the work of a spy. He does what’s required of him to the utmost of his ability and nothing more- scouts, searches, gathers, reports, and he knows that it’s likely one day he will die for this cause. And to what end? Forgotten, nameless, another blot of blood on the record of martyrs; he expects nothing more, yet he must be content. The young and the friendless are best suited for this work, and Ludwig is hardly one to go back on his first kindled convictions. 

Alfred’s voice breaks through his dismal thoughts.

“Hey, Ludwig, can we walk?” He stands, the last dying light catching the gold thread of his sleeves. He looks wreathed in a halo, his hair turning honey in the sunset and his skin taking a warmer glow as the dusky night falls. 

Ludwig stands in response, waiting for Alfred to lead the way on.

He starts, and for a long moment, they walk in silence. 

The first stars blink to life above the horizon, Jupiter and Venus like pinpricks of light calling up night's darkening cloak. An owl hoots from its roost, and fireflies light up likes fairies across the green, painting the grounds like a fairytale beginning waiting for the princess to arrive. Ludwig looks to Alfred, wondering what he seeks to gain by leading them to the maze at this hour. Ludwig knows he’s no incompetent, but even he would hardly dare to venture to the hedges’ heart by moonlight alone. Still, it’s almost romantic, and the hole in his heart only deepens.

“Ludwig.” Alfred starts, his easy voice marred with unexpected reservation. “Do you ever feel like you’ll die alone?”

“I- sometimes? Is this what you were looking for me for?” He slows and searches for Alfred’s eyes in the dimming night.

“Not really. Sorry, that was weird.” He laughs beneath his breath. “You’re probably promised to some beautiful foreign countess, and you’ll be married in a mild spring and have three kids and live happily ever after, huh?”

He can’t help it. He laughs. 

Alfred stares at him in a mix of confusion and concern, and Ludwig stops on the path, uncaring as his hair drops in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just- Alfred, I’ll probably never be married much less have three children.” He looks to him, smiling in mild disbelief. “You’ll be the one with the stunning bride and happy home. The world will go mad before I dream of one.” Only he has dreamed of one- with Alfred, and the world has been mad for years.

“I mean, I hope so, but-” He lingers by the entrance to the maze, opening it for Ludwig. “Sometimes I don’t want to. Besides, why would  _ you  _ not? You’d make a hell of a better husband than I ever would.”

“How?” Ludwig asks incredulously.

They walk into the cool shadow of the maze. The night seems to close in around them, moonlight shafting in above the leaves and the crickets chirping between the branches. Alfred smiles at him and shakes his head.

“Where do I start? You’re solid. You’re sweet and dedicated and attractive. You’re really fucking smart. You’re capable. You have rank and riches, connections. You’re young. Women already fawn over you. You’re a damn eligible bachelor. If you asked a girl if you could court her, she’d say yes nine times of ten. No questions asked.”

Ludwig leans against the hedges, split between giddy joy and skeptical disbelief. He ends up smiling slightly, his hand pressed to his forehead.

“Alfred, if they love me, they must think you a young god. You’re a much better choice than I am.”

“No, I’m a much better short term choice, but I’m reckless.” He smiles, but Ludwig can sense the pressing reality in his tone. “I’m too much. I’d make a bad dad, too, and you know it.”

“Hardly. You’re charismatic, kind, romantic, daring, bold- every key ingredient a princess wants in a duke. Your energy only adds to your charm, and besides, Alfred, there’s good reason why you’ll be married far sooner than I; very good reason.”

“Oh, yeah, why?” Alfred challenges.

“I’m harsh, awkward. No women would appreciate my attempts at romance.” Alfred opens his mouth to speak, but Ludwig holds up a hand. “And I’m not interested in women. That would be the main reason.”

Alfred stops, eyebrows raising in question. “You want to stay single?”

Ludwig nearly groans aloud, and before he can stop himself, he’s already correcting him. “I like men, Alfred.” He slows, but doesn’t cease, ignoring for once the fear itching at his mind. “I’m attracted to men. I’m a- what did my grandfather call it?- a deviant. A disgrace. I would rather die alone than burden a woman with my… inability to appreciate her.” He pauses; two heartbeats and a breath. “So that’s why.”

Alfred stares at him wordlessly, and Ludwig waits for the look of disgust. He can hear his heart in his head and feel his stomach up his throat. It’s better this way he supposes. Alfred is too dangerous, too keen, too good, too loyal to his uncle, the very man Ludwig has been working against. It’s better this faux form of friendship ends over this than the other unspoken conflicts of interest weighing silently between them.

Alfred’s mouth opens, and Ludwig is already braced for the scathing response.

It never comes.

“Then you can always find a guy. I mean, that’s still no good reason to die alone.”

Ludwig stops, incredulous. It takes all his willpower not to laugh or shout or cry even though he knows he couldn’t if he tried. His gaze settles in Alfred’s earnest blue eyes, seeped in the genuine belief only Alfred, despite his intelligence, his realism, his shrewd understanding of the human heart, can manage, and he hesitates while the world waits with bated breath. The heavens seem caught in suspension, the blinking stars holding their gleam, and the moon leaning forward in tensed anticipation. Ludwig is too aware of it all; the prickling leaves at his back, the wind raising goosebumps on his skin, the warmth of Alfred so close yet so far. He crosses his arms over his chest and exhales.

“I still can’t. It’s you, but it’s completely my fault.”

“What?”

“Alfred, I’m in love with you.”

And in that instant the glass breaks. Every shared laugh, every smile, every secret, every promise, every silent look falls to nothing at the moment of truth. Ludwig has taken his hammer to the foundation, and now the building crumbles to dust in the chilled breeze, scattering like every shattered hope before it, dissolving like every other broken dream.

“You’re in…” Alfred’s shock turns to resolve. 

He steps forward, placing one hand on Ludwig’s waist and pausing. He’s close enough to touch, the scent of fresh grapes on his breath and the warmth of his body filling the air between them. It’s worse than disgust, than rejection. This is hope and promise in a place where there should be none, and Ludwig wants- no, knows- he needs to push Alfred away, to stop this before he gives into something he can never truly have. But he can’t. He can’t, and he’s melting beneath Alfred’s blue eyes and gentle touch, and before Alfred speaks, he knows he’s already lost the war.

“Can I kiss you?” Alfred breathes the question like water to the thirsty.

Ludwig’s arms drop to his sides.

“Yes.” 

Alfred cups his cheek, sliding behind the curve of his jaw and settling in his hair. He tugs him closer, and he kisses him. Ludwig stumbles forward, his hands finding Alfred’s shoulders as they step backwards and break momentarily apart. He laughs, round and hearty and uncaring of who hears it, and Ludwig is falling all over again.

“Fuck this!” Alfred calls out, and before he can process, they’re falling backwards against the grass. 

Ludwig desperately cups Alfred’s head as they thud against the ground, suddenly aware of their bodies flush against each other and their legs tangled up on the grass. Alfred smells like spices, his dimples deepening as he grins, and Ludwig can’t help but smile.

“ _ You’re insane _ . That could’ve hurt.”

Alfred wraps his arms around Ludwig’s waist. He leans in and whispers. “But you’re into that, huh?”

Ludwig flushes brighter, but before he can retort, Alfred is meeting his lips once again. It feels like a fever dream. The grass is damp beneath his forearms, and Alfred is warm and solid and better than any pining fantasy. Alfred brings a hand between his shoulder blades, his mouth still hot against Ludwig’s and his every touch like a burning brand against his body. Alfred tugs them to the side, his arm wrapped around Ludwig’s lower back, and in the blink of an eye, he has them flipped, his hands slipping out from beneath Ludwig to pin him lightly against the grass. He kisses him deeply. 

Ludwig smirks into the kiss, running his hands through Alfred’s hair and returning his passion full force. He falls back against the grass for air, his smile melting as the repercussions of his actions begin to slowly pan out in his mind. This is too great a risk.

“Alfred.” He murmurs, tracing along his jaw with reverence.

Alfred releases his wrists to settle over him on his forearms, a question in his eyes.

“Alfred,” he says again, “I can’t do this.”

“Why?” He moves to pop open the first buttons of Ludwig’s shirt.

Ludwig runs his hand down Alfred’s shoulder to his bicep. He’s aching with something far more than physical as Alfred runs his fingertips across his neck to his collar. The moonlight is washing him in an ethereal glow and edging the greenery with silver. A precious stillness paints upon the moment. But Ludwig is far from at peace.

Visions of Alfred, slain on these very grounds, his blood mingling with the roots of the roses, flash hot across his eyes. Strangers’ blood spattered across the robes of a man Ludwig is only pretending to be, coded messages declaring the necessity of yet another betrayal, the disappointment soaking through his grandfather’s face mar Alfred’s handsome figure, and Ludwig is forced to recall why this can never be.

“Your position.” He lies. “You can’t afford to do this to your family’s name.” 

“Ludwig, there’s literally a doorway between our rooms. First off, I don’t give a flying fuck about what people will say, and second of all, it’d be a giant fucking lie to say I’ve only had women in my chambers. If you’re uncomfortable, I will absolutely stop, but I’m not letting you go for my goddamn  _ reputation _ .” Alfred speaks with such burning conviction that Ludwig nearly forgets why they can never be. 

_ Run away, _ Ludwig longs to tell him. _ Run away before it’s too late _ . The hour nears when they will enter the castle with the intention of death in their hands, and the lives and freedom of the high and mighty will vanish in seconds. Ludwig’s very life exists to expedite the day, and now Alfred- one of the enemy himself- is pressed against him, speaking words of passionate affection beneath the cloak of night. To speak his true feelings would mean death for himself. To stay silent means death for Alfred. Yet it’s hardly so simple. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Alfred asks.

Ludwig stills him with his hand on his cheek. He longs to ask him what he seeks to gain from this, to ask if his feelings are returned, if he’ll lie to him a little longer, but Ludwig must prolong the charade. He cast his die in a moment of carelessness, and now that new trust has been forged, he cannot risk the lives of thousands. To leave would arouse suspicion, but to yield would gain a further edge into the dealings of the royals. He cannot turn on duty for the inclinations of tonight.

“Just a few minutes longer,” he says.

He’s a fool, but by the mercy of the gods, Alfred has readily returned his desires, and the door is cracked open for his taking. Perhaps, his mistake has been remedied to afford him one last chance to prove his dedication. Perhaps, this is his opportunity to make the wrong right. Ludwig must push aside his building emotions and yield. The heart is deceitful above all things; of this he’s well aware. 

“Ludwig.” Alfred frowns, bending to scatter kisses along his jaw. 

His lips press like promises against his skin, and Ludwig’s eyes fall shut, his hand falling from Alfred’s cheek to fist the fabric on his shoulder.

“Ludwig,” he says. 

He moves down his neck, open-mouthed warmth blooming hot down his collar and setting Ludwig in flames. The breeze lights its chilled fingers where Alfred has touched him, drenching his skin in an alternation of hot and cold and scrambling the thoughts he’s trying so desperately to gather. 

“Ludwig, why are you so damn scared?” He undoes another button, working closer to his chest. “How do I get you to open up? How do I get you to trust me?”

He pauses, looking to Ludwig with pleading in his eyes. “Why are you so damn  _ scared _ ?”

Ludwig does his best to breathe, his chest nearly shuddering with the effort. He feels dazed, lost to the pleasure and numb to the looming dangers. He squeezes Alfred’s shoulder and kisses him before pulling a centimeter away.  _ Forget _ , he wants to whisper. 

“I’m not so easy to read, Alfred.” He pulls him flush against him, and Alfred does nothing to protest.

He kisses him again. 

This is what feels like to live in a lie.

 


	2. Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the final chapter of this fic! Today's [GerAme week](gerame-week.tumblr.com) prompt was "Until Death Do Us Part." Just a warning, but this chapter is heavy on the angst! I had a blast finishing this fic, and it was fun to write something a little different from the usual. B) I hope you all enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and as always your feedback is cherished! 
> 
> This chapter's aesthetic can be found here.

“Beilschmidt, I never imagined this was what you meant by ‘acquainted with.’”

Ludwig pauses swirling his wine to look his commander in the eye, his brows drawn in contemplation. “To what do you refer to, sir?”

“The princeling- your friend.” Yao smiles, sipping at his glass. “You’ve done well. I just never expected seduction to be your choice of method.”

“Er, yes, sir. Thank you.” Ludwig flushes. “Is it… very obvious? I presumed it would be best to inform you in person of that development.”

Yao laughs and sets his glass down hard. “His attraction to you is obvious, yes. Sometimes I forget how young you are. You turn what? Twenty-four by the next moon or so?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mm. So young. Still, it does work best on the young. You know what I say. Good sex is better than good wine.” He smiles slightly.

Ludwig clears his throat, flustering as heat rises to the tips of his ears. He doesn’t know what to say, and the itching discomfort of the lie he’s actively living weighs heavy on his heart. Everyday he digs himself deeper in this pit, but Yao graciously continues to speak.

“However, we need to talk-” He sets down his drink, his lips pressing thin in a sudden somber expression. “-about you and the prince.”

“Yes, sir.” His voice sounds unlike his own. Dry fear crawls like scraping spiders up his throat. It’s too soon and too late. He knew this was settled on the horizon, but it’s still far too soon.

“I see.” Yao clasps his hands before him, no visible change in tone or expression. “Then it’s as I suspected.”

He tenses, all too aware of the brutal sentences Yao has issued in the past. _Loyalty is undying. Thus the traitor is dealt the hand of death._ Yao’s tone steels, and Ludwig braces himself for the judgement. 

“Beilschmidt. Will your personal feelings interfere with what you’ve pledged your life to in any way, shape or form? Because if the answer is yes, I will immediately discharge you from your position by tomorrow’s dawn.”

He doesn’t need to ask if he understands the severity of the situation. Ludwig knows he’s a fool; too easily read, too easily attached, and this mercy is something far greater than what he deserves. Responsibility has been set upon his shoulders, the fate of the Rebellion placed in his hands, and now, at the trials, Ludwig has wavered, crumbled in a moment of foolish hope and misplaced affection. Guilt settles like a blackening cloud above his head, running his world gray and cold.

Alfred burns across his mind’s eye, his warm laugh tugging at his heartstrings like a siren song. It would be too simple to leave the conflict for a promised haven, but he cannot. He can never, and he dares not consider the prospect again.

 “No, sir. I pledged my life to this Rebellion.”

“Very good. The time has nearly come.” 

Ludwig’s heart stills. Already, his hands feel wet with their blood.

 

* * *

 

Ludwig rubs his hands together, blowing warm air against them. The sound of strings and laughing nobles lilt up from the ballroom, golden light filtering in from the far halls.The mindless revelry is in stark contrast to the storm brewing in his mind, but it’s a sure sign of safety as the inhabitants of the castle will be kept busy by frivolous dance and costly champagne for hours longer. Best of all, there will be no Alfred to remind him of the looming night of blood bleeding red on his conscience.

The corridors are dark, Ludwig’s boots clicking across the stone and the solitude weighing on his guilty conscience. He slips into his room and pulls the door shut.

His bed is made, corners tucked and his faux papers lay piled neatly on his desk. His pillow is on the floor, but images of Alfred grinning atop it flash unbidden across his vision. Gentle promises and heated whispers loop like broken records in his mind, and the memory of Alfred's warmth burns hot on his skin.

Time is nearly up.

Alfred will die.

He shatters.

The image of himself standing tall, uniformed and steely-eyed, runs across his vision. He’s a soldier, a spy, a loyal adherent to the noble revolution. He must stand strong, make his brother proud, save the lives of his people, but he’s not, and he can’t, and in this moment, he wants nothing more than to hold Alfred in all truth and transparency, to give up on every heroic dream and noble aspiration, to lay down his arms and his lies to love and be loved. But he can’t, and he won’t because it’s not close to what he deserves. The guilt settles in his head, welling up wet in his eyes and blurring his vision.

He curses beneath his breath, his hand clamping over his mouth and the other blindly groping for the wall. There is no point in trying, yet he must. There is no strength in his character, yet he must. He may die, and he must, but he can’t. It’s too hard. It’s too much. He’s too little. Too weak. Too _fucking useless_.

He falls against the door. His shoulder thudding against the wood, and he bites back a threatening sob. Useless. Spineless. _Puppet_. He's never enough, never enough. He should be able to control himself. He should be able to push back these pointless emotions.

His eyes squeeze shut, hot tears dropping against his hand. He cannot cry. He isn’t a child. His vision blurs again, and he sinks to the floor in pathetic surrender, dropping his head against the door with his teeth clenched. He chokes back a ragged cough and buries his mouth against his sleeve.

“ _Fuck_.” He pulls his legs towards his body.

Quitting would be so simple. Maybe Yao would be gracious and shoot him in the mouth. Maybe the royals would be kind and leave him to rot in their dungeon. He could fall on his own sword, stashed just beneath his bed. Only it’s far from what he deserves when black stains his hands and the ghosts of Alfred’s kisses and gentle caresses are on his skin instead of bruises. He’s worthy only of the worst of deaths, and his sins gather by the hour. Death is too kind. This path he’s begun he must finish, no matter the bodies that scatter in his wake.

He sobs into his sleeve, his arm pressed against the cold wood and his eyes screwed shut. The taste of salt threatens at his lips, and he curses himself for being so _human_.

“Fuck. Dammit. _Dammit_ , Alfred.”

He can’t think when there’s so much to do.

He wipes his sleeve across his eyes, scrubbing at his face and swallowing back a fresh wave of tears. The temptation to weep into the night is strong, but such a choice would be terribly inefficient. He reaches for the nearby desk and pulls himself up, his brow furrowing in the effort. _Alfred_ is what his mind whispers, a fresh bout of tears threatening to spill over, but he pushes the thought down and marches toward his desk.

“Ludwig.” Alfred hums, stepping out from behind the bookshelf.

Ludwig stumbles back and makes a strangled sound of alarm. He turns quickly to the side, hiding his face with his forearm. “Alfred, what the hell!?”

“Sorry.” He walks towards Ludwig and pulls gently down his arm, frowning as Ludwig clamps his free hand over his own eyes. “Let me see, baby. What’s wrong?”

“Alfred, now’s not a good time.” Ludwig reddens, his hand never leaving his eyes. “I’m fine. I… I’m fine, yes.”

Alfred takes both of Ludwig’s hands in his and kisses his cheek. He leans forward to press his lips to his nose, under his eye, on his jaw, and Ludwig freezes, self-loathing bubbling up as he does nothing to stop him. He wants to let Alfred stay and brush his tears away, but weakness is folly, and this cannot be for tonight. Ludwig pulls his hands from Alfred's grip and places them on his chest, pushing him away.

“Not now.” His voice cracks. “Not now. I just need some sleep.”

“Lud, babe, are you okay? I was looking for you all night. What happened?” Alfred steps back, his hands falling to his sides.

“I'm fine. I just…” Ludwig shields his eyes with a hand and looks to the ground. “I don't know.” He lies. “I miss home. The stress is getting to me. I'm sorry. You don't need to be here.”

Alfred reaches for his face, cupping his jaw in his hands and walking closer. “Why didn't you tell me sooner? I could've helped you.” He lingers, tugging him gently downwards to look him in the eye. “Don't overload yourself, Lud. You work too hard.”

“Alfred.” Ludwig frowns, swallowing back visible signs of emotion as best he can. “Aren't you supposed to be at the ball?”

“Fuck the ball. I'd rather be with you.”

Ludwig squeezes his eyes shut and lets his head fall against Alfred's shoulder. He sets his hands on Alfred's shoulders, gritting his teeth in an attempt not to cry.

Alfred loops his arms beneath Ludwig's and pulls him close, pressing a kiss into Ludwig's mussed hair. “You can cry you know. I've got you now, sweetie. It's all going to be okay.”

“Thank you.” He manages, fisting Alfred's shirt in his hands. He inhales the familiar scent of his cologne and lets himself be held.

For a precious moment they linger, nothing but the sound of their breaths between them. He's weak. He's weak. _He's weak_ , but he doesn't care.

“Hey, hey, want to talk about it?” Alfred murmurs into his hair, his hand rubbing circles on his back.

“What is there to say?” He says, his face still pressed against Alfred's shoulder and his voice muffled by the fabric.

“Dunno. Sometimes it's good to talk shit out.”

“Mm, no, there’s nothing to speak of.” He looks up and runs his hands down Alfred’s arms to his elbows. “But you can kiss me.”

Alfred laughs softly in the darkness. “Ludwig, we can't fuck away all our problems.”

“I know.” His lips twitch up, and he sighs, kissing Alfred’s cheek. “Alfred, you should go back to the ball. Won’t your uncle be upset?”

“Maybe, but fuck it. Just come to bed with me. We can figure it out in the morning.” 

Ludwig smiles despite himself as Alfred takes his hands and leads him towards the door.

 

* * *

 

 The sunlight shafts in through the cracked curtains, burning Ludwig’s skin and waking him from his slumber. He shifts to his back and groans, stretching his arms above his head. The blankets are rumpled and piled to one side, but when he pats the space beside him, the bed is no warmer than any other part of the room. He sits up, blinking blearily into the shadows and searching for any sign of Alfred.

 “Alfred?” He slides out of the bed, his bare feet hitting the floor with a thud.

 There’s no response though Ludwig is far from concerned. While it’s rare for Alfred to rise earlier than him, it’s likely he’s simply gone to breakfast or for a stroll around the grounds. Outside, the servants can be heard bustling about the halls, signs of life and activity putting to ease any doubts Ludwig might've had. Pushing through the door to his own room, he rolls back his shoulders and stops, surprised to find Alfred, dressed and ready, lounging on his armchair. A book is set on the table beside him, and his boots are laced up to his calves.

 “Morning, sunshine.” Alfred moves to meet him, a smile on his lips.

 Ludwig raises a brow and smiles at his approach. “Good morning, dear. Were you reading?”

“What? Don’t act so surprised.” Alfred places his hands on Ludwig's bare chest and walks him back towards the wall, grinning. “I read when I feel like it, but you’re a little distracting, babe. Makes it hard to read when you stroll in here looking like this.”

Ludwig flushes, hitting the wall with a subtle thump and placing his hands on Alfred’s waist. “I was going to put on a shirt and go find you, but instead, you're here, reading in my room. Which isn’t shocking at all, mind you. I know you’re very smart.”

“Sweet talker.” He smirks and leans in until their foreheads are touching.

“I can do better.” He squeezes gently at Alfred’s hips. “Your eyes, my love, are like pools of living water, soothing my parched soul in the cruel desert of this world.”

“Gosh, I’m swooning, Lord Beilschmidt. I think you’ve made me a little dizzy.”

Ludwig rolls his eyes and kisses him softly, tugging his hips flush against his. Alfred slides his hands up Ludwig’s chest and runs a hand up his jaw. He tastes like cherry tarts, butterflies fluttering hot in his stomach, but as he moves to slide his hands up Alfred’s sides, something cold presses to his neck.

His heart catches in his throat, and he inhales, sharp.

Alfred pulls away, an unrecognizable shift in his demeanor. He's masked with a stony resolve, his lips pressed thin and his chin held level. He clenches his jaw and keeps the knife set against Ludwig’s neck with no readable intention in his eyes. Ludwig stills, his chest moving up and down minutely as he tries to breathe.

“I know who you are.” Alfred says, his voice slow and level. “I know who you’re working with and what you plan to do. I know you’ve been lying this entire goddamn time.”

Ludwig crumples internally. It hurts more than anything to hear the words straight from Alfred’s lips, but he steels himself and keeps his chin up, no sign of his true feelings written on his face. He’s known from the start that enemies is all they can ever be, so so be it. So be it all. Alfred won’t kill him just yet.

“But I saw you crying last night. I was looking for clues, but instead, you came in, and you cried, and Ludwig, I-” Alfred’s facade drops for a moment, the pain in his eyes flashing visibly and tugging hard at Ludwig's heart. Alfred sighs, still gripping the knife’s handle. “I knew from the fucking beginning, okay? But I didn’t think you’d- Fuck, I thought last night you might have, I don’t know- _Fuck this shit_. Ludwig, you want to know something? When I said sometimes I don’t want to get married it was because of you. I guess I just didn’t give enough shits about you being what you are back then when I should’ve, but I fucking know it all.”

Ludwig closes his eyes. He’s fully capable of disarming Alfred who, while being capable, is considerably less skilled in combat than himself, but he knows he could never do what duty requires. He cannot die, and he cannot leave Alfred alive with this knowledge, but the alternative is too great a cost to pay. He exhales carefully and soaks in the darkness.

“Fate’s a fucking bitch.” Alfred hisses beneath his breath. “Why’d it have to be you?”

Ludwig breathes slowly, knowing better than to respond.

Alfred’s voice drops to a whisper, the words pushed out clipped and quiet. “Did you love me?”

His heart stops in his chest. His eyes flutter open, and he meets Alfred’s gaze.

“I never lied about that.”

But he can’t wait any longer.

He grips Alfred’s wrist and knees his chest. He wrenches his hand from his throat, tackling him to the floor in seconds, and with a heavy clap, Alfred hits the floor. Guilt clamps hard around his heart as he swipes the knife and presses it to his neck, his jaw clenched in an effort to hide his pain. He swallows hard, his chest heaving as he sucks in air.

“Alfred, I’m sorry. You deserve so much better. Just run away with me. Join the Rebellion. Forget about all this. You know your uncle and aunt are terrible people. You know the kingdom is falling apart. We’re going to fix this. Alfred _, I can fix this._ ”

Alfred stares at him, fire rising behind his eyes and his voice hoarse beneath the knife. “You’re delusional. I can't let you kill my family.”

“I’m sorry, Alfred.” Ludwig steels his grip on the knife.

Fear sparks in Alfred’s eyes, but as Ludwig remains crouched over him, his fingers brushing his neck, Alfred steadies, a resolve to his voice. “Do it. Kill me.”

He can’t.

He throws the knife across the room and stands abruptly, burdened by his own inadequacy in his actions. He stares at Alfred in silence as he waits for retribution.

Alfred stands to his feet and punches him hard.

His jaw registers the pain seconds after he sees it coming. His vision flashing black, he reels backwards and catches his hand against the wall. His eyes fall closed, and he hisses in muted pain, uncaring now of whether it ends or goes on. He braces himself for another jab of pain, for a knife to the gut, a punch to the side, anything- but for a long second, nothing occurs.

“ _Dammit_ , Ludwig!” Alfred’s voice, wrought with pain, cuts through his thoughts. “What is this to you? What am _I_ to you? Just a fucking job?”

“ _No_. It was never supposed to be, and it wasn’t! I fucked up, I know, but if you knew, why did you let me?” Ludwig snaps, his eyes flashing open and his hands fisted at his sides.

Alfred advances, running him back up against the wall and pinning his wrists. “Maybe I was stupid, but you were fucking easy to read! I knew from the beginning you were hiding something. I found the message in your coat, Ludwig. I’m not a _dumbass_! I know what shit is planned!”

“Stop. Stop it! Just shut up, Alfred!” Ludwig struggles beneath his grip, but Alfred, in his anger, is surprisingly strong.

“Why would you care if I'm fucking upset about this? I was just a fucking job for you, huh? How many goddamn times did you lie to-"

Ludwig leans forward and kisses him, teeth clicking and lips throbbing. Alfred freezes, and Ludwig pulls back, his face drawn in piercing sadness.

“Please don’t do this. I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry.” He pleads. “Alfred, I love you. That was never a lie, but I can't. Combined we are worth less than this kingdom. I'm sorry, Alfred. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

Alfred drops his wrists. “Will you kill me before I can warn them?”

“God. _My God_ , Alfred, you know I can't kill you. Don't make me choose.”

Alfred grabs his face and kisses him hard. It's desperate like a drowning man gasping for air, and Ludwig feels like he's burning. He pulls him close, and Ludwig kisses him back, one hand tugging him in by his hair and the other at his hip. They're lost for a moment until Alfred tears away, his hand cupping Ludwig's cheek.

“If you love me, leave. Run and never come back. Tell your commander to call off the attack. We'll be ready because you aren't the only one fighting for this kingdom.” Alfred leans in, his forehead resting on Ludwig's and his words whispered. “And if I ever see your face again, I'll kill you. That's a promise, Captain.”

He steps away and strides out of the room, never once looking back. Ludwig stares blankly down at his feet, the taste of Alfred's lips still hot on his tongue. Shaking it off, he picks himself up and begins to pack.


End file.
